


with or without you i'm a goner

by timelockedparadox



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Background Relationships, F/F, Fake AH Crew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 19:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10928466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelockedparadox/pseuds/timelockedparadox
Summary: There's fresh blood on the street, and someone with impressive cred behind it. It's a wildcard called Doll Face in whispers in bars, or at night under hot breath, or in its most recent case-- at the table by Geoff over eggs and bacon. They're gonna recruit her for the crew-- ah, hem-- company. Lindsay's hooked, Michael knows, and Ryan wants to help.





	with or without you i'm a goner

**Author's Note:**

> so I wrote this because I'm a lesbian and there's a huge need for f/f in stuff so! this!!  
> unnecessary story headcanons? technically this-story-canon actually:  
> Lindsay's pretty gay, for Meg (and Mica, whoops) what a lesbian  
> Michael's gay as hell, with Gav even though they don’t know it at first  
> Gav is hella bi, with Michael  
> Trans enby Jack, uses mostly they/them  
> Can't be bothered with it, but he’s bi, Geoff Ramsey  
> Ryan “gay for Ray” but really just gay Haywood, though Ray does not appear  
> Jeremy, minding his own business but also? kinda low-key gay, Dooley  
> Matt holla at your bi Bragg  
> Meg and Mica are bi just like in real life wow!!  
> also story title and chapters are fake deep ok that's it go

“So did you hear about that double homicide of those bank heads last night?”

Lindsay stands positioned at the stove burning some more scrambled eggs for herself. Jeremy is fumbling around with forks in the drawer next to her. He gives an apologetic glance a few times, muttering about damn butter knives and huge spoons everywhere. It makes it kinda hard to hear, but she immediately tunes into the conversation at the table.

“Picked it up on the radar. You think it's her?” Jack asks tentatively. He’s leaning in, unintentionally keeping his voice a little hushed.

Geoff, from his spot at the head of the long table, scoffs openly. Clearly not thinking the conversation necessitating an air of secrecy. “Of _course_ it's her, the MO totally fits. Rich guy, fancy hotel, stab wounds, not a trace besides a note. And _a lot_ of missing cash.”

Michael raises his head at the conversation. He’s leant back in his seat, as his plate is clean beside the sink. He just seems to be nursing the coffee surely full of whiskey and watching to make sure as Gavin eats his breakfast. “Stab wounds? Guy, fancy hotel rooms, late night. An air of mystery and attraction. Sounds like Ryan.”

Across the table, Ryan fires, “Hey! That was a long time ago. Also, I don't leave _notes_.” For effect, Ryan points menacingly with his fork.

A hand up, obviously _terrified_ of Ryan and his fork, Michael agrees flatly, “No. And I don't imagine they would be like ‘ _Call me!_ ’when they're dead. Unless that's your thing.”

Several chuckles rise from the group around the table. Jack practically snorts into their orange juice. Dumping the singed eggs (more brown and black than anything else) onto a plate, Lindsay grins.

“Sounds like a Ryan thing,” she agrees. Michael gives her a look like _‘I know, right?’_

The original  conversation ebbs out at the comments, and Geoff chews on his waffle for a moment while they talk. Lindsay settles down in her seat besides Michael. He notices the eggs on her plate and adds she really ought to get her shit together or let him make them for her. She shrugs in her usual non-claiming of responsibility.

Geoff continues in a serious tone that's usual for him and often funny to everyone else. “They apparently all say ‘ _Heart you!_ ’ and are signed ‘ _Doll Face_ ', never released to the _press_ mind you, but…”

Michael unexpectedly fires at Geoff, “But _Geoff_ told Gavin to find it, and had him stay up all night looking for it.” He glares at Geoff, like he stood at his desk side and watched Gavin work all night, asking him to please just go to bed, you look _exhausted_ , and got murmurs of ‘ _just another minute, love_.’ And was not happy about it. Keeping Gavin awake all night was not something he was about to let slide easily. Jack glances between Geoff and Michael cautiously.

Lindsay switches her gaze to Gavin, who shrinks a little at the topic. Seemingly of guilt, the way his eyes move from Michael to his plate.

Geoff has the common sense to look sheepish in the face of Michael's ire. “Look, he didn't have to find it _right away_ , but anyway…” The way he waves his hand has Michael's eyebrows push closer together as he goes to fire back.  

Gavin sees it, probably before it happens, and slips in immediately. Before Michael even open his mouth, he hastes to ease his concern in a semi-casual tone. “Late nights are common, have to dig through a lot of toss to find stuff y’know? It's fine Michael.” The way he stressed ‘it's fine’ and said his name gently has Michael's face soften.

The look they share is obvious, even though it only lasts a couple of seconds. Michael, clearly still concerned but relaxed by Gavin's assurance, puts on a nonchalant air similar to Gavin’s casual tone. Though the eggs on his plate he stabs at would scream if they could, how forcefully he spears them. Lindsay makes a point not to mention it.

Lindsay, despite this all, is very used to it. Jack and Geoff muttering dramatically about a job over breakfast, Michael and Gavin's back and forth, Ryan’s neutral but interested silence; it’s all routine.

Her focus is rather on the original topic, the  their new employment interest. A manila folder lays on the table, presumably filled with what they have so far.

In it, she finds a description with details from eyewitnesses (“average height, slight build, red hair, brown eyes, and reportedly a _killer_ _smile_.” _Funny_ , Lindsay thinks.) There had been no name or distinguishing pictures, other than a few blurry ones of someone believed to be the suspect walking down the street in a fine black dress and heels, red hair falling across her shoulders. Would look mildly artsy if they weren’t stills from the feed of a convenient store’s security footage.

After a minute of examining it, she sets it back down carefully, almost casually. But Geoff quirks an eyebrow at her. He waits for her initiative.

Lindsay begins with, “Do you, like, know her real name? _Other_ than her alias.”

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, not looking at Michael. “Gavvers, er, got that too thankfully. A one Meg Turney.”

Lindsay frowns. Ryan pauses from poking at his eggs and asks exactly what Lindsay was thinking, “Wait wait, _we_ know her name but the _cops_ don’t?”

Gavin who looks like he’s been waiting for someone to mention this very thing, chimes in, “Yup! Police don't know it, took _days_ of wading through files and countless sources. Including a friend of mine from one of our neutral gang rivals, Eddie-- guy’s a bloody _lifesaver_.” Michael raises an eyebrow at him. Everyone else looks at least slightly critical of his statement as well. Gavin noticeably notches down his enthusiasm a little bit, though he still looks pleased with himself. “But yeah, as far as we can tell, we’re the only ones that know. Cool, right?”

Ryan doesn't reply, but is seemingly satisfied with an answer from Gavin for once, and steps back into his silence. Lindsay also remains with her thoughts for a minute, mulling over this information. Michael mooches off her shitty scrambled eggs. Mostly out of pity. He frowns slightly while he does, and tries to offer Gavin some forcibly with his fork which evokes an indignant squawk. He relents easily though and returns to nibbling at it himself, and urging orange juice at the two of them. “Fucking stop being a baby,” Michael snaps at Gavin once or twice.

Lindsay, pushing away a strip of bacon Michael pokes at her face with, asks with great difficulty, “So… we're recruiting her? Like, the serial killer with a thing for rich dudes.”

Jack, having been silently observing most of the conversation (and the amusing sight of Michael mothering them) like Ryan, joins in. “Hey, we all have a thing for rich dudes. Good money, if nothing else.”

Jeremy makes an agreeable noise. As well as something that sounds suspiciously like “damn right.”

Lindsay shrugs. Can't disagree with that. Pulling cold cash out of the pockets of loaded dudes was the main source of income in their line of work. At least technically speaking. Robbing banks was still at the expense of loaded guys in high-rise buildings’ offices. But this girl, this _Meg Turney_ , was different. She had more investment in this than any mark they'd had in weeks-- _months_ , even.

She delivers another hard-hitting question, in a similarly elegant fashion. “Um, like how old is she?”

“Yeah Geoff, what's her favorite color, her life’s ambition?” Michael teases Lindsay's line of questioning. She pokes him with her fork.

Geoff sounds annoyed but he sure isn’t about to _look_ annoyed. “She's 28, I don't know, and probably murdering people.” He rubs at his forehead stressfully, barely keeping his composure. “Anyway, get the fuck out of my kitchen, I gotta go get work done.”

As most people just welcome themselves into Geoff's apartment, Mica strides in at that moment. She looks sharp and well dressed but dashingly attractive as usual, wrapped in a red scarf that lights up her eyes and matches her deep red lipstick. Lindsay notes, eyes gliding up her frame as Mica rounds up on her.

“Hey Tuggs,” she greets in her signature tone of respect that also oozes gushiness. Her hip rests on the table and she sidles up into her space to show her a small stack of paper. “I’ve got some deets for ya. You’ll wanna see these, trust me.”

The warmth of her so close rolls over Lindsay immediately. She smells like roses and sweet perfume and a grin spreads slowly on Lindsay’s lips. It’s something she knows all too well, a familiar memory, soft and pleasant.

Michael issues her a small, inquisitive look as passes them by, moving slower than usual under the guise of waiting for Gavin. Looking to watch the scene more closely for longer, no doubt. She’s well aware she’s probably flushed and obviously too pleased with the most recent regular visit from their undercover division’s manager but she doesn’t want to make a show of addressing him. _And_ his likely suspicions.

Lindsay refocuses her gaze on Mica, who is smiling warmly and still comfortably and unabashedly in her space. “Uhm yeah, I was just about to get started on some work. You want to go review this in the living room? It’s got a sweet coffee table.”

“Hell yeah,” she replies.

+++

Lindsay lays sideways on the couch, laptop in tow. Her eyes slide across the computer screen like her hands on the keyboard. It's been a couple hours since breakfast, and Mica has long since taken off with a smile and a wink (and a repeated promise to take her for coffee sometime~!) Her sweet scent still lingers on the couch, and on her collar from where Mica’s hands wandered while she commented on Lindsay's tired eyes and lack of color. Just working long, she assured her. No big deal. Lindsay continually pictures watching Mica’s fingers threading through her hair, leaning over to point at different papers and paragraphs with her other hand.

Lindsay’s doing her usual mid-morning routine of crew maintenance. It's typically consistent of checking up on people's whereabouts (in the city or otherwise), scheduling and directing people and tasks, and making sure people and the things were in place for future crew “endeavors.” Geoff is the head of the crew, of course, but Lindsay takes care of a lot of background stuff, mostly.

And the task isn’t extremely attention demanding, so of course her mind wanders. Oh, Caleb is in Vice… Kdin is still on her two-week vacation in Seattle, that’s nice… Mica leans across her lap, and her shirt is falling subtly off her shoulder…

“Ah shit,” Lindsay mutters. She squeezes her eyes shut tight to dispel the image.

On a Saturday morning, it’s typical for Michael to plop down on the couch and take up the controller. With it being in front of the biggest TV in the house, it’s no wonder why. Today, he doesn't disappoint. Lindsay busies herself with her work, not lingering on the intrusive thoughts of Mica.

After several minutes of button-clicking and menu traversals, Michael turns to look at her and asks right out of the gate, “So… this Meg. You seemed pretty interested in her.”

Her hands still on the keyboard. She doesn’t trust herself to look him in the eye. “Um. Everyone usually does get pretty excited about a new hire, don't they?”

Michael makes a small _hmph_ sound. “Well, Gavin gets excited about pretty much anything. And I'm pretty sure the only thing that excites Ryan is murder, as apart of general violence, and computers? So… eh.” He makes a wishy-washy hand motion. “You? You seemed pretty excited.”

Lindsay is flushed for an inexplicable reason. Like Michael has caught her in some kind of lie with a net of keen perception. She tries to maintain an air of nonchalance.

It takes a second to mutter a flimsy and slightly defensive excuse, “Not very often we get a new recruit, alright?”

Michael, raising an eyebrow over his glass of mysterious presumably alcoholic contents, isn't having any of it.

“We hired Mica a couples months or so ago,” he said flatly. “For undercover reconnaissance. The one that comes around at least once a week, that flirts with you and you drool over. Remember?”

Lindsay flushes. “What? I don’t droo--”

He’s on a roll and doesn’t seem to be stopping soon. He continues, “Trevor a few days after that, for social media surveillance. And we started Andy a few days ago as a starter gig as a,” he makes air quotes. “‘heat redirector’, for after jobs? To get the cops off us, obviously.”

“Uh, yeah but--”

“But Michael,” Michael interrupts in a voice mimicking Lindsay's, throwing up his hands dramatically. “This one's _hot_ and _mysterious_ and oh, she might like me!”

Lindsay's face burns bright red with embarrassment. “What, no?” she denies in a slightly high-pitched voice.

Michael makes a face. Like he’s actually exasperated with her attempts to fool him. For shame, says his disappointed look. “Lindsay we've been friends for years, I know you know that I know you're a huge lesbian and a sucker for cute, mysterious lady killers.”

Lindsay doesn’t even try to dispute the first claim. “Yeah! But I don't-- I've never-- _she doesn't even know me_!”

Michael doesn’t look nearly as serious. “Oh, typical. Pining after the person who doesn't even know you exist. _Tsk, tsk_.” He puts on an act of mock disappointment. “You know, I expected better of you.”

Lindsay, becoming more amused and slightly annoyed than angry, pokes him in the ribs. He snickers with the apparent enjoyment at her lady troubles and reaction. They're never _actually_ mad at each other, really.

“Well, uh, what if I do like Mica?”

“I’ve tried to set you up before, but you were too squirmy then and it didn’t work, remember? You tapped out.” he shrugs. “Could try again if you're so interested?”

“I uh-- um..”

“See, told you.”

She doesn’t retort.

Stressed from the thoughts of her tiny schoolgirl crush, (crush _es_ , apparently) Lindsay cards a hand through her hair. Her laptop long discarded to the side, she spreads her knees and tries to relax. Michael passes her a can of Red Bull. Knows her too well, this one.

He examines her somewhat closely, carefully watching as she tries to relax. A minute passes before he gives a breathy laugh and says, “But man, you know you really need to get laid anyway. You're like, about to start sparking at your fingertips with how strung out you are.”

Relaxing efforts be damned, the thoughts spring back immediately at his words. She starts exasperatedly, “I know! But seriously--”

“This one's cute.” Michael finishes. “She seems… interesting? I dunno.” Michael says, with a bit of uncertainty in his tone. Lindsay can’t place why, though his mouth has a smile for a small second.

Lindsay doesn't say anything and just nods a bit hopelessly.

“So, I guess we'll have to figure out a plan of action for you getting some action.”

Lindsay laughs a little. He grimaces, knowing full well how cheesy that was. She agrees, “Maybe not _just_ action, though.” Michael nods understandingly. “But, aren’t we're sure to run into her eventually somehow, Geoff looking at her and all?”

“Oh don't worry, I've got something specific in mind.”

+++

What Michael specifically had in mind, Lindsay did not discover for weeks. Two, exactly. While the thought of their potential new hire did not slip so easily from her mind, it wasn’t really at the forefront. 

Sure, occasionally over the days following the mysterious Doll Face killer would pop up in the morning Los Santos news. Or on page three of the daily newspaper or equivalent online source. Some chatter over media would surface inevitably, but die down after a couple days. In the usual chaos of the city, one vigilante-esque killer was hardly a hot topic for very long. 

Geoff occasionally attends gatherings, almost meetings (he swears up and down they are  _ not _ dates) of big millionaires, CEOs, and corporate bosses. One night over dinner he recounts animatedly about how one guy talked about  _ Doll Face _ , and how one of his drinking buddies and rich businessman met her. He didn’t survive, of course, but he talked about it in detail like he knew what happened.

Anyway, “So the idiot goes on and eventually I get him to tell me how the guy met her. And so basically, I’ve got a meeting Friday night.”

“Wait, what? You’re serious?” Jeremy splutters. “Oh god, he’s serious.”

The six of them are all spread across the living room, on couches or chairs, or in the kitchen nearest with their head in the fridge or ass on the counter. The one in the fridge is Jeremy, as he had been staring longingly at the contents within the fridge for at least five minutes and Gavin ignorantly sits on the countertop, legs swinging merrily. Already having told him off several times for it, Michael just glares. Ray is typically absent, while Ryan sips glumly at a Coke. He always is, and if Lindsay listened close enough sometimes she could hear him grumble about not seeing Ray as much. Lindsay has to keep tabs on whenever he disappears for a couple weeks to spend under the radar with Ray away from the company and chaos. 

Ryan is looking at Jack, leaning on the doorway into the kitchen. Lindsay is opting for an actual seat at the counter, switching her gaze between the party before her and her phone. Some points of the meeting need to be noted on, of course. That doesn’t account for when cats flash across the dimly lit screen, though.

“You got a date with a serial killer,” Jack chuckles. “Oh, you’re totally dead.”

Geoff huffs and his chair at the table off to the right of the room wobbles in his melodramatic reaction. “ _ Meeting. _ And I certainly am not, or your asses’ll all be fucking fired since you’re coming with me! Obviously!” He sighs as if physically exhaling his irritation. “Swear to god, you fuckers wouldn’t know a good plan if it it hit you in the asshole.”

Michael shrugs. His jacket, dark leather that hangs over his frame, shifts on his shoulders. “Course not Geoff. Remember my heist?”

Realization quickly washes over Geoff’s face like the tide, quickly replaced by irritation. “With the motorcycles and the boat into the sunset? Agh yes, I had a migraine for a week!”

Jack snorts. They whack Geoff on the arm, none too lightly. “That’s what happens when you almost get shot in the fucking face.” 

Geoff looks a bit defensive, like he’s about to argue. Shifting slightly in the their seat on the couch, to put their back to Geoff, Jack merely returns their gaze back to the others.

Ryan, always one to question plans, “But wait, how’re we supposed to go if it's a date?”

“ _ Meeting _ ,” Geoff corrects sharply. “and it’s not like I’m going to casually introduce you like six totally not suspicious associates with me to a meeting with  _ one person _ for no reason. You’re fucking operatives, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Michael moves like he just gave an involuntary breathy snort. “Yeah, Ryan. We’re  _ operatives _ ,” he says.

“Professionals!” Gavin chips in bemusedly.

Ryan is not amused. Not on the surface, at least. If Lindsay knows, he’s probably feeling a kindling of amusement somewhere inside. 

Ryan slouches forward a little, heavy leather jacket crinkling across his shoulders. “Well Gav is obviously going to hunker down in a van alone,” he begins.

“His natural habitat,” Michael inserts. Gavin sticks out his tongue at him. Michael returns it. Gavin laughs and Geoff rolls his eyes. Lindsay shares a fondly amused look with Jack.

“across the street or down the block,” Ryan continues as if not interrupted. “But like, are Michael and I going to watch the front door like bodyguards? What?”

Geoff makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s three days away, scope the place out and figure it out if you want. It’s just a hotel, I’m sure you can look inconspicuous enough.”

“Should I contact undercover for help?” Referring to the undercover division of the company, headed by Mica with agents like Ashley and Elyse. Lindsay is keenly aware of Michael’s look. “Uh, Mica shouldn’t have a hard time.”

Geoff gives a wave of his hand and passes it off, “Ryan?”

He sighs heavily, clearly defeated by the better tactics the option offers. “Yeah, sure. It couldn’t hurt to have a few extra eyes.”

Lindsay nods and begins a message to Mica, summarizing the situation. Everyone keeps muttering in low voices about various aspects of the mission. Lindsay glances at Ryan, who has a look of intense contemplation, and she just  _ knows _ he’s finding every last loophole in Geoff’s explanation like always. She simply waits, tapping periodically at her phone as to look unconcerned. 

As if on cue, Ryan stops in his tracks with a finger raised in question. “Wait, I just. Have a question. Since she brings them to hotels, does she sleep with them?”

Jack shrugs. “Hm, not usually. Not part of the MO at least.” 

Ryan, though still looking a bit confused, decides to continue. He turns to Gavin. “Gav, you wanna get me a floor plan of the hotel? Ins and outs, all of it.” 

Gavin immediately lights up, eager for anything that isn’t being stuck behind a computer because he’s the only one of them who can do it beside Jack. “Oh sure! Can I also note on it for you, Ry?”

He gives a small grin. “Course you can. You can even circle it in green, just how you like.”

Michael shifts his gaze away from them sharply. He looks affected, eyebrows drawn together and a hard look in his eyes. “I’m gonna need to stock up on more explosives,” Michael grumbles. “That exchange deal last week cleaned me out.”

Ryan catapults straight into exclamatory outrage. “It wouldn’t have if they’d just agreed to hand the shit over!”

“We know, Ryan,” Jack sighs, like they’ve heard this too many times over the past seven days. 

Lindsay stands, slipping her phone into her back pocket. “Hey, Ryan, could you go check on the armory for me? I want to make sure Matt returned all those handguns to the right storage container. Kinda gets on my nerves, sometimes.”

“Sure, no problem. Be right back,” he nods to Gavin, striding out of the room toward the lower staircase. Michael watches him go, and then his eyes shift back to Gavin who is looking for some maps of the city they usually have lying around somewhere. After a moment of hesitance, he moves to help him. 

“They’re here, in the cabinet, Gav, I’ve got 'em.” 

Geoff heaves a big sigh. “I should get all the cars and transportation in order, Christ knows that’s always a pain in my ass.” 

“Call me when you’re good to look over the schedule,” Jack reminds him as he leaves, a hand raised in acknowledgement. Jack picks their stuff up and what Geoff left and clears out, letting Lindsay move over and start sorting out the rest of it. 

Michael lays the maps on the counter. Gavin lights up, scooting down to make room for them. 

“Thanks boi,” Gavin says with a bright smile. Michael looks surprised for a second, then his expression slips back to his typical casual, somewhat stoic default. 

“Don’t get used to me getting your shit for you, what am I a maid?”

“Well, technically you’d be a servant. But no! You’re just being a good boi, boi.”

Michael grumbles, “Sure, sure.” He gestures to the maps. “So, you like drawing on them?”

“Yeah! Don’t you ever notice the notes I leave on them?”

Michael's face colors a light red, like he does remember some choice notes. “Oh, yeah, I remember 'em. I just thought you were fucking around, didn’t think you actually liked it.”

Gavin looks at him curiously. “You alright?”

Lindsay attempts to look more involved in straightening out the paper on the table. Michael clears his throat, “Yeah, yeah. You been sleeping okay?” 

“Ah... yeah! It’s been fine, just haven't been getting  _ a lot  _ y’know, with the surveillance.” 

Michael scowls. “Mmm, you know…” his voice drops to a much quieter, softer level. Lindsay can barely hear. “You ever need to, you can always come stay in my room. It’s cool, I don’t mind, but you seemed kind of uncomfortable about it last time.”

“Oh, Michael, I jus--”

Ryan strides back in, nods his head up to Lindsay. “The handguns were in the crate for semi autos, so I sorted them out.”

Lindsay ducks her head down a little, avoiding Michael and Gavin’s gazes. “Thanks, Ryan.” 

He gives a half smile. “No problem. You ready to lay out the maps, Gav?” 

Gavin takes a second before he snaps back, clearing his throat and looking to Ryan. “Yeah, alright now.” 

Michael sets his jaw and looks away. He gathers himself and looks ready to leave, looking anywhere but Gavin.

“I’ve got to go. Get explosive resources and stuff, later,” he grumbles and Lindsay watches as he swiftly exits the room. The front door to the apartment slams closed downstairs. 

Ryan hardly looks disconcerted as Gavin does. The tense atmosphere left behind by Michael escapes his notice almost entirely. He leans on the counter and begins examining the maps, looking deeply concerned only about the routes around the hotel. 

Lindsay has all the papers on the table stacked, and leaves them there for later dissection. She attempts to leave as least awkwardly as possible, issuing Gavin a sympathetic grimace. 

**Author's Note:**

> michael/gavin angst oh yeah hoo boy  
> the chapters won't be this long in the future probably? but this one is because I'm that gr8  
> lemme know if you like it? <3  
> also my tumblr: teambetterends


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